short stories

Text: Jane Flett | Illustration: Nami NakanoThat was the summer I finally grew into myself, fitting into my skin like a hand in a tight cotton glove. All summer long, I ran my hands across my life, marvelling. I could feel the neat, tucked seams. The stitches.

by Anna Geary-MeyerMy first job out of university is as a personal assistant to a web designer in Berlin, where I moved because I didn’t know where else to go. The web designer answers my application email in all lower-case…

by Corinna CliffEleanor walked up the broken pavement towards the old school, focussing on her feet. Sweat was running down her arms as she balanced two buckets of soapy water in each hand and a bag with brushes on her shoulder…

by Janielle Love WilliamsI’m the descendent of a lineage of lycanthropes. As far back as we can trace, the Martins have shed their human coats at midnight of the full moon and roamed the night in packs…

by Renaud HelenaI push the table away to be more comfortable. In the formula, it must be at night, so I close the shutters. They say that this recipe works perfectly, it does miracles. I light two candles and I sit on the carpet…

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What is TQU?

A place for queer* activists and creative PEOPLE to connect and start collaborating.

Dedicated to creating beauty and showing our powers while criticising racism, classism, ableism, sexism,
hetero/homonormativity and other forms of oppression.